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By AnonymAmanda Mccabe
Bea did not want a new mother. She'd hardly even seen the one she once had, except for glimpses out the window when her mother was climbing into a carriage to go off to a party. She'd been as beautiful as an angel, all sparkling and laughing in her lovely gowns, but not much use.
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By AnonymAmanda Mccabe
He laughed and it sounded startled and a bit rusty, as if he didn't do that very often.
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By AnonymAmanda Mccabe
I could only see you. I only wanted to be with you. But marriage is never just two people, is it? It's so much more.
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By AnonymAmanda Mccabe
Maybe it was this place, this strange, ramshackle, warm-hearted place, that had given his wife that air of laughing, welcoming life. Because here she bloomed. With him she had faded and he had faded with her. Yet here she was, his Jane again. His hope. And he had never, ever wanted to hope again.
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By AnonymAmanda Mccabe
You do not see any improvements you would make?" Miss Harding's smile turned mischievous. "Not at present. But I should have to see the inside. That is where ladies really excel, you know, in curtains and cushions and such." "Indeed," David murmured, remembering how Maude had filled the London house with bolts and piles of fabrics and wallpapers and pillows the instant they arrived. Everything in the very latest style. And then he thought of Emma's cosy sitting room, all books and family portraits and dog beds.
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